


In the House of Flies

by deftbones



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Lots and Lots of Body Horror, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deftbones/pseuds/deftbones
Summary: Sehun dreams of things people not dare to think of on any average basis, on barely any basis at all: of death and disease and rot. he dreams of screams, of blood and broken bones and falling tears. it's a horrific neverending cycle of hopelessness that plagues Sehun's mind and nearly every aspect of it.he does not have dreams, he has nightmares.





	1. Prologue

 when Sehun goes to sleep at night, he dreams.

but he does not dream of what are considered, by any means, "healthy" thoughts. he does not dream of happy times, of smiling faces and white cake and kisses; of sunflower fields, of blue skies and holding hands and bright eyes. in many minds, these pure-hearted visions of happiness are considered the “true” dreams, the "real" kinds of dreams. there's a type of certain, boring validity to them, and over and over again people emphasize the importance of a feel-good foundation to the subconscious. but Sehun does not have these types of visions.

no, Sehun dreams of things people not dare to think of on any average basis, on barely any basis at all: of death and disease and rot. he dreams of screams, of blood and broken bones and falling tears. it's a horrific neverending cycle of hopelessness that plagues Sehun's mind and nearly every aspect of it.

he does not have dreams, he has nightmares.

he has seen people about these dreams. psychics, medics, specialists of the mind. the more experienced simply tell him it happens because he's young and troubled, and they shrug it off without a care in the world: "you'll get over it, it's just a phase." but others, the more shady people he's explained these nightmares to, they tell him that the things he sees in his nightmares are omens.

and Sehun thinks about this all the time, what these nighttime stories could possibly mean for his future, what it holds for him. he wonders if his life will be cut short and his time on this earth will end much more abruptly than others, and he cannot help but to feel a sense of serenity towards this idea of a dreamless sleep.

nevertheless, he is almost afraid of sleeping. he's so used to the nightmares, but he is simultaneously so frightened that there are nights where he sits wide-awake, watching overly dramatic foreign films in the dorm while the other members rest without worry, and dream of smiling faces and white cake and kisses.

he envies their peace.

he stays up for so many hours, so many days at once, until he loses all sense of time and direction; days mold into nights like hot candlewax and suffocate him with confusion. the other members notice his ill-being, and they urge him to sleep with words drowned in sorrow, assuring him that the physical benefit is worth much more than the emotional scars.

"please," they beg. "sleep."

Sehun soon gives up, he no longer fights their cries of anger and despair as they echo in his mind. it's unhealthy for him, he persuades himself that it is indeed better if he slept, even if he faces the thoughts that he tried so hard to avoid.

so, he sleeps.

and he dreams.


	2. Act I

this dream is not like the others.

the sunlight is bright and warm on his bare, milky skin; his paleness is radiated and shines in the corners of his eyes. cotton clouds swim in the oceanic sky in a slight, cool breeze that hisses in his ears to form distant howls of happiness. golden sunflowers stretch in vast quantities in every direction, as far as the eye can see, a massive puddle of petals and leaves. they sway lazily in the wind, kissing Sehun's face like lips of fabricated kindness as he sits kneeled upon them.

he feels fuzzy and content to the bone, for the first time in so long that he feels he has been reborn. he feels himself smile, such a rare action that it aches his cheeks and face, but he smiles anyway, and wonders if anyone envies his peace.

he remains among the flowers for what seems like such a short time, enjoying the differentiating colours surrounding him until his concentration reserved for all the condensed joy is diverted. he hears heavy crunches, louder than the swishing of the sunflower stalks, and he notices the field in front of him part down the middle like the Red Sea. the dimple in the flowers, caused by a source unseen, slugs closer and closer to Sehun until it reaches him and he sees what is such a weight.

a mass of bronzed flesh emerges from the stalks, a horrid concoction of bloody stumps and disfigured limbs. nubs of raw flesh stain the flowers behind it in dark blood, a path of crimson. it crawls using frail arms and bony fingers, pulling its weight behind it. the skin is whipped and torn like it had been beaten mercilessly, but the face of the creature itself is untouched and perfect like it doesn't even belong there at all.

Jongin finishes crawling towards Sehun and pauses a couple feet in front of him, shifting its disheveled weight as it settles in a patch of flattened sunflowers. a pool of blood begins to drown and stain the petals beneath the naked body.

  
Sehun feels sick as he watches his dismembered friend squirm in front of him like a worm on a boiling summer sidewalk.

his throat is dry and all the words he tries to speak get caught in his mouth, winding around themselves until one escapes past the net of discomfort.

"Jongin..."

the creature in front of Sehun, deftly resembling one of his greatest friends, stares up at him with dark, brooding eyes while its body still twists and twitches, rustling the melting sunflowers around it. its voice is gravelly and hoarse, and it comes out barely clear.

"who are you?"

Sehun pushes this question that Jongin speaks into the back of his mind, despite how hard it initially is to ignore the inquiries of this awful mass in front of him.

"what happened to you?"

it sounded much more polite in his head, and Sehun speaks with such broadness that he himself cringes at the imposing intent of this question.

Jongin, however, doesn't seem to mind. it crinkles its nose and answers in a hushed voice, so hushed that Sehun almost has to lean in to hear it. "i used to dance."

Sehun remains quiet, looking down at his friend with wide eyes. he's not sure what he feels, looking at this sack of pulsing flesh beneath him, all those memories of Jongin's perfection and grace reduced to this vision, this atrocity.

Jongin doesn't catch on.  it nearly frowns, mouth corners diving downward slightly, and it repeats itself like a broken record. "who are you?"

Sehun's body begins to stiffen and his palms sweat, not even from the heat, but from the waves of panic drowning his mind and emotional well-being.

"J-Jongin, we're frie-"

it interrupts Sehun with a shrill, cracking shriek, which echoes off the hills and the flowers and the clouds themselves -- "I DON'T KNOW YOU."

Sehun is startled, he jumps back a few inches, but it doesn't stop there. Jongin continues screeching, its voice choking out of its throat until the noises almost sound like deep sobs.

ＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵ

it pierces Sehun's eardrums and racks his very skull, repeating over and over in his head. it becomes so overwhelmingly loud that his vision blurs and blanks. he closes his eyes, but shapes and colours obscure the black perfection. his ears ring, a pitched tone, and all the words become melded together as the screams become even louder as Sehun sits helplessly in front of the thing he once called a friend.

ＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵＩＤＯＮＴＫＮＯＷＹＯＵ

tears well up behind his eyelids, and they begin to seep through his lashes before he feels the ground beneath him crumble and disappear, and then, he is falling.

the screeches fade away like the end of a horrid song, and he is given a long moment of peace. he feels so weightless, his ears whistle in the wind as he falls further and further into what he imagines is the earth, and his tears dry on his waterline and he feels so happy to be away from Jongin, away from his friend, even if he is about to meet the end of his life in such a short moment of contentment.

Sehun wonders if Jongin envies his peace.

he opens his eyes, but he is still greeted with darkness like he had never even opened them at all. even from above, from whence he came, there is no light, no sunshine. there is just darkness.

his moment of silence is interrupted when he lands, hitting a pillow of fine softness with a harsh thump. as he rushes to pull himself up, he feels what he gathers is dirt slip beneath his fingers as he pushes off the ground.

he stands steadily in what he feels is an upright direction and finds himself engulfed in complete darkness, not much different than the fall, but very much different from the sunlit meadow and whistling sunflowers.

he turns around and around in circles until he feels dizzy and sick with panic, scouring for any source of light. he begins to shake until he squints and happens upon, with his strong eyes, a pinpoint of light in a single direction.

  
he moves one foot after another on instinct in the direction of his saviour, his feet scratching at the dirt beneath him, and as he grows closer to the light, it becomes brighter and brighter. a flicker of hope swells in Sehun's chest as more luminescence embraces him.

  
still several feet away but much farther than before, he notices a silhouette poised near the light. it looks vaguely humanoid, which is more than he could say for his last encounter, but it looks frail. the shoulders are bent, figure slouched over, neck protruding and head stuck towards the light in front of it like a plant striving for nourishment. it's still mostly unrecognizable, the light casting such shadows that not even the backside, facing Sehun, can be traced and identified.

Sehun moves closer with childish caution towards the light and the figure itself, until he is only a couple yards away. he picks out the shape of a lit flame dwelling in a lantern, hanging solidly from a hook implanted in the wall of dirt surrounding them. everything around them, Sehun guesses by the texture, is dirt. the tunnels are small, the ceiling low, and he wonders how the person in front of him even made it in here. two other separate tunnels go in either way of the lantern, a three-way of solid brown muck.

Sehun shuffles himself forward another foot, itching to see what this thing is and why is it so absorbed in the light. he begins making obviously staged noises to attract attention, even at the expense of himself and his safety. but the figure does not move. the only motion it makes is the rise and fall of its chest as it breathes in steady rhythm.

Sehun wets his lips with his tongue and speaks softly, like a frightened boy lost in the park. "excuse me?"

the person stationed in front of him is very subtle, and very calm. with one slow, careful motion, it looks over its shoulder at him.

it answers with one word. "yes?"

and with such a short reply, Sehun recognizes the voice, albeit the physical figure still dark and misshapen. he would know that tone anywhere, in any world. it's almost relief that he feels, if not for the situation currently pestering him.

"Chanyeol?" he hurries a little closer, until he can somewhat see what is left of the face mirroring his own.

it is mostly untouched and unscarred aside from the bandages that cover the top half of his head. in the areas around the eyes, the cream fabric is caked in dark, thick blood; it's dripping halfway down his face, rivers of brick-red crusted plasma, streaming down his cheeks like tears of painful colour, even some running down his neck into shadows.

"who is Chanyeol?" he almost whispers, mouth making the blood on his face swim.

  
Sehun can't stop staring at the bloody bandages wrapped around Chanyeol's head, obscuring his entire eye area and brow. his hair is mussed, dark and strung with grease and blood and mud, like he hadn't bathed in years. the single bandage trails off the other's head and ties around his body like a limp snake, twisting down his legs and into the nether darkness of another tunnel.

"you're not Chanyeol?" Sehun chokes out, a hint of whine creeping into his voice. he's tired of this game, of these unknowing games.

the man shakes his head sadly, the bandage moving with him like another limb. but the protruded ears and deep voice tell Sehun quite otherwise, and he wonders for a moment if this Chanyeol doppelgänger will yell at him just like Jongin did.

Sehun's curiosity overcomes his sense of right and wrong after a short moment of hesitation. "what happened to your eyes?"

there's a wheezing sigh before he answers. "i found his light." he pauses for such a slow stretch that Sehun thinks he's done speaking, but another sentence bellows out. "i looked at it for so long."

Chanyeol lifts a veiny, trembling hand, and hooks his delicate fingers around one of the straps of bandage crisscrossing his face. he pulls once, and then pulls more, and the fabric unravels, as if by itself.

what falls from his face reveals blackened sockets of burnt, faded flesh, craters made by bombs of lantern light set on either side of his nose. streams of sour blood leak out of the empty, gouged sockets like a faucet; it even emits a smell, a gut-wrenching smell of fiery flesh and boiling body fluids. Sehun feels vomit well up in his throat, and as he turns his eyes away so he does not have to look any longer, he speaks, but barely.

"Chanyeo-"

"that is not my name." he sounds much more stern than before, and Sehun is taken aback by the sudden change in attitude.

he swallows the knot in his throat and inhales the horrid smell in the process. he nearly gags on air but wades through the temptation. "then what is your name?"

"i don't think i have one," the Chanyeol copy replies, not in anger, but in what Sehun recognizes as sorrow. remorse, even.

  
Sehun shivers as he realizes how cold it is beneath all this earth, packaged up like a shipment for sea. Chanyeol is no longer watching him with his nonexistent eyes, but instead has gone back to being transfixed by the lantern once more, like Sehun had disappeared long ago. he feels more frustrated, at this point, than terrified, despite all the fear that this thing in front of him induces, and Sehun decides to turn into one of the other tunnels and make his way down the hallway of dirt.

the tunnel grows intensely more dark as he walks farther from the light, in an almost abnormal engulfment of blackness. there is just a pinpoint left when he glances over his shoulder, and he hears a voice as he does so.

it's initially so faint, it is just a hiss of syllables, but as he stands still for longer, the whisper increases steadily in volume. still soft, but recognizable, he listens as Chanyeol speaks to him. one word, over and over, and it is then so audible Sehun wishes he was deaf.

_"S-Sehun..."_

the air freezes colder, and goosebumps prick at Sehun's bare arms.

_"S-Se-Sehun...."_

it chimes every few seconds, louder each time it rings. his name, then a pause. it sounds pained and weak, like an injury working at the throat.

Sehun blinks once, and the pinpoint of light he had just seen a second before is gone. extinguished.

the voice, too, is gone. fizzled out. Chanyeol ceases to whisper again.

the air is so cold.

there is a moment of hesitation on all sides around him, in all aspects. it's like time stops, for just a pause, then there is movement around his leg.

Sehun feels something rough slither and entwine itself around his calf. he panics, tries to shake it off, but it tightens as he moves and coils as he fidgets with fear. he tries to run, but he's hindered beyond average, and whatever is so numbly attached to him starts pulling on his leg from the direction whence he came.

there is a loud, aching cry that rings in the tunnel.

ＹＯＵＦＯＲＧＯＴＳＯＭＥＴＨＩＮＧＯＨＳＥＨＵＮ

it then rips at him so hard he falls onto the rough dirt, it whips and drags his body down the tunnel, tossing him into hard walls like a ragdoll, beating him and knocking him around like he weighs close to nothing. he screams but he is not heard by any, barely by himself.

the entire hall illuminates at once, thousands of lanterns surrounding him in all directions, so bright they blind him, so bright it is black.

so light it is dark.


	3. Act II

Sehun regains consciousness in an unfamiliar place, but in the presence of a more-than-familiar boy. he is almost, almost, happy to see the person sitting so stiffly in front of him, but at this point, he is not necessarily sure whether his half-hearted happiness will be rewarded.

his word becomes no more than a relieved choke. "Luhan..."

he sits up from his position on a chill floor, and first notices that, surrounding him in a massive circle, is a neverending church organ sheltering four rows of yellowed keys. the golden pipes claw upwards into a painted dome, vividly displaying pastel angels and naked muses hovering in soft colours and wispy clouds. it is all lit in warm light by a single ornate chandelier diving from the very peak of the ceiling, basking everything around it in a yellow, welcoming glow.

the precision of the setting almost distracts Sehun until he remembers who he is in the company of.

he looks at Luhan straight into his bright eyes, and the smaller boy smiles sadly from his perch on a marble bench centered in the floor. it is a pained smile, Sehun realizes, like lies stuck between his teeth.

"Luhan, tell me what's happening."

Luhan's smile, or what was left of it, fades. he purses his lips and narrows his eyes down at Sehun from his white throne, a look of such condescension that Sehun's heart drops from his chest.

the younger stands up from the cold floor and approaches the boy cloaked in white, reaching out with careful fingers to make contact his shoulder. Luhan shies away from the touch so much that he almost looks like he‘s about to fall off his seat.

Sehun's eyes water and sting. "Luhan?"

the older boy shakes his head in a sign of deep unsatisfaction, and he then points a bony finger at his own throat. if something‘s missing, it‘s not visible to visible to Sehun, and he continues speaking solely with his own ignorance.

"can you speak to me, Luhan?..."

the eldest stares up at him with frigid, sharp eyes. Sehun looks away, as he cannot bare this glare from his mentor any longer, and glances up at the solid marble walls that cage him. he observes previously unseen writing in thick, bold lettering encircling the upper pipes of the organ with cream sincerity. the letters spell out one sentence, which repeats over and over in an unending demand.

ＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧ

from his marble seat, Luhan gestures with a slender hand to the organ. he's no longer looking at Sehun with anger, but with desire. with expectation.

Sehun huffs and eyes the organ with suspicion. "i can't play the piano."

Luhan remains silent and makes a vague motion to the organ once again. his expression does not budge, even as Sehun pulls a look of equal unhappiness and irritation across his own face.

deciding it was not worth the hassle to argue, Sehun heaves a sigh and steps with stiff legs towards a section of the organ surrounding him. his naked feet are chill on the spotless floor, and a shiver overcomes him as he approaches a set of worn, faded keyboards.

with a timid finger and slight hestiation, he presses a single ivory on the lowest manual.

a low, clear note erupts from the pipes and echoes within the confines of the room, but it is the composition of the note that makes Sehun shudder.

it is not a sound made by a machine, or a bell, or by any strings being pulled. it is a sound made only by a living, breathing organism. a human being.

Sehun would recognize that voice anywhere.

his chest feels tight and breathing becomes a difficulty as he plays another note, presses another ancient key.

it is the same voice, only a different pitch. slightly higher, but balanced and worthy of any praise. his breath catches in his throat and his lungs hiccup, but he continues playing.

at the mercy of his fingertips, more and more singular notes belt out of the organ, one after another, Luhan‘s angelically soft voice filling the room to the brim with sound.

the more and more Sehun plays, the more and more he notices the other voices, the sudden whispers becoming louder and thicker as Luhan’s voice tenses his nerves more than it should.

he is reminded of a similar situation from before, and with similar intention, he looks around for any way out, any escape from this rapidly expanding hellstorm, even if it meant leaving his friend behind.

there are no doors, no windows.

just the growing whispers and Luhan‘s voice, still sounding loud and clear even though Sehun‘s fingers had left the keys long ago.

there are hundreds of them, all one singular tone, swarming Sehun like bees, like wasps. they speak words already written.

ＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧ

Sehun turns around, trembling with uncertainty, and looks at Luhan. the other sits with perfect calmness and seems entirely unbothered by any of the noise, watching with dull eyes as the fearful younger stands at the organ.

the whispers increase even louder in volume. Sehun keeps his overall composure in his head and in his mind, but his muscles begin to spasm and quiver in all his nervousness.

ＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧＰＬＡＹＭＥＡＳＯＮＧ

all of the keys, all of the hundreds of thousands of them encircling the two boys like rings of olden teeth, press down all at once by a source unseen. every pitch of Luhan‘s voice bellow out in expert time, so loud it vibrates Sehun‘s body and bones.

it isn‘t a song. it is a chorus of voices and noise, a composition of chaos.

Sehun kneels down at the side of the organ, driven by the motivation to leave and escape, scratching at the dark flat woodwork with desperate nails and knobby fingertips, ripping at splinters and tearing at solidity. tears well at his eyes, he begins screaming so he can hear another voice above the others, but even the mess around him loud that he cannot feel his own vocal chords pulsate.

Luhan watches in still silence.

Sehun begins pounding at the weakened wood, beating and punching with such harshness his knuckles crack and bleed to paint the timber red, but his work is swiftly rewarded. it breaks to reveal darkness, utter darkness. he tears broken planks of wood away to create a hole just big enough for him to fit through, and he crawls on hands and knees into the unknown.

he drags himself along in such a cramped space with haste, so eager to get away from the voices that he does not notice his surroundings or his own injuries.

Sehun is engulfed in swamped black when the noise is finally all gone, and he is left lying in a small chute barely large enough for him to crouch. he is so uncomfortable in this stuffy darkness, his breathing becomes irregular, but he is happy for only the silence that hugs him tight.

time passes, but not slow enough. it only seems like a couple moments before his period of contentment is interrupted, by quick scuttling and scratching in hurried buffets: first above him, then left, right, below, behind--

he whips his head around and the shuffling stops.

in what he formerly believed to be total darkness, there is such a pale face that is illuminated within itself, its own source of light. it opens to a neverending smile from ear to ear, anatomically impossible yet teeth so stark white they glow. the eyes follow suit, they are opened bloodshot wide like broken baseballs and stare at Sehun amidst the pitch.

Sehun again recognizes this boy, despite all his obvious malformations. he does not speak or attempt to understand, because, based on past experience, he will not be verified in return. he is so exposed to these oddities, even, that he is no longer afraid of what fate he will be met with or what fate his friends will meet.

  
he ponders this while Baekhyun shares an uncomfortable silence with him, one smiling and the other simply staring with a tight-lipped pout.

through all his shiny, bared teeth, Baekhyun whispers in a husky tone, “have you met the others?”

Sehun frowns, lips pulling downwards into a near-scowl. his head still rings. his own voice escapes him without another thought otherwise. "a few, are there more?”

Baekhyun nods a gaunt head, in what seemed to be a quiet gesture of pity.

of course there were even more of them. just Sehun’s luck.

“i will take you to them,” Baekhyun says with swift intention.

Sehun panicks. “no--“

Baekhyun’s foot-long, several-jointed fingers wrap around Sehun’s ankle and roughly pull him backwards before he can protest any further.

he is lugged silently along by Baekhyun, whisked through feet and yards and metres of wooden tunnel and chute. when light from an unknown source seeps through the occasional cracks and breaks in the wood, Sehun turns his head to look at Baekhyun.

  
he crawls forward with multiple limbs, sticking out of his body in every direction. some are longer than others, but they all brush against the woodwork as they travel along, near-transluscent fingers stretching in great lengths with tips that trail down miles and miles of splinters. a particularly long limb, protruding from Baekhyun’s torso, is firmly attached to Sehun’s leg.

his skin is so white, so pale, Sehun sees the bones and joints and muscles writhing underneath Baekhyun’s skin like worms and parasites. they are all moving at once, with every passing second they twitch and squirm. Sehun feels like he’s watching caged animals trying to escape. he feels uneasy.

if not for his face, and his somewhat reminiscent eyes, he would not look like Baekhyun at all. he would not even look human. just a mass of white muscle and unnecessary limbs.

the tunnel becomes hotter and hotter as they travel and Sehun is dragged along helplessly with the unsettling image of Baekhyun’s flinching muscles replaying in his mind. he begins to sweat due to the rising heat, and he hisses under his breath at Baekhyun.

it becomes unbearably hot and Sehun whines before Baekhyun finally stops.

"tell him I said hello.”

“huh-“ the wood surface is abruptly pulled out from underneath Sehun’s body and he slips into even more intense heat.

he lands in a pile of thick, rough, darkness, trying to feel around for anything above him, but there is nothing. he is left in almost suffocation, humidity tearing at his lungs, a smell so wretched it makes his eyes water.

the heat burns his skin.

it doesn’t take him very long, looking around in a dim light from a source unseen, to realize that he’s landed in a pile of corpses: not fresh corpses, but long-deceased. crusty, shriveled, like dense raisins still beneath his body, he is touching them so closely and intimately he feels violated and filthy. the smell becomes stronger and more unbearable, as they surround him in all directions. it is a neverending field of bodies.

forgotten like sunflowers, resting in envious peace.

Sehun shrieks.

a beacon of light erupts from above, cutting off his scream, a singular column of white beams. a section of shrunken bodies beneath it are illuminated, until a shadow crosses the stream.

it hovers, pauses beneath the light. another body, not unlike the others. arms outstretched at an angle, legs limp, like a lazy crucification. it is deformed beyond all apprehension, but no amount of light could touch its skin. it is eternally black.

charred like firewood, textured and ribbed. dried meat.

a skeleton with a shell.

a voice, thick and strong, words slurred and drowsy, echoes in the void.

_i see you there, in the dark._

Sehun starts, corpses rattling beneath him. the hovering, still mass, in all its horrific glory, rotates entirely towards the boy, pinpointing him like a wild animal. it freezes for a few moments, just a couple second’s time, then the light goes out.

darkness greets them again.

Sehun breathes in the smell, lungs trembling, soaked in sweat. the light switches back on to reveal the body, closer than before, hung from the sky like a puppet.

he watches.

the light blacks out once more.

switches on. closer, again this time. a few yards. the scarred features of the body are magnified more than Sehun ever wishes, a human cockroach.

as swiftly as possible, even when he pulls his body beyond its limits in the process, Sehun stands and hobbles on the corpses. he takes off as best he can in the opposite direction, leaping and jumping and stumbling over bones and dried flesh. the noises they make grind at his eardrums, layers of hundreds upon thousands of empty carcasses crunching beneath his feet.

he looks over his shoulder.

it’s following him.

  
it maneuvers toward him with ease, floating beneath the smooth spotlight like a sickly angel caught in a moonbeam. straight towards him, tracing his path, effortless motion.

Sehun’s breath catches, he chokes on the smell of rotting corpse, and wheezes.

_don’t run away, your leader loves you._

Sehun whimpers as he continues his stretch, hopping over more corpses. “ _you’re not my leader,_ ” he hisses under his breath with difficulty, pulling his foot out of a niche in the bodies.

_don't be that way. your leader loves you._

_not my leader._

_i love you._

you’re not my leader.

i love you.

get away from me.

Sehun gets stuck for too long, his leg stuck in a hole too rough and too deep for him to escape from, and he looks behind him with his heart racing and his mind blaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo yeah this is unfinished. the end. no more. i hope yall enjoyed!
> 
> thanks for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> this is VERY old and was probably one of the first things i've ever written. i'm not into exo anymore but changing it to another fandom is too much work lmfao so i kept it this way. this STOPS after act II. i won't write any more than this and i know many of the other members weren't even mentioned, but this is a good 3 or 4 years old and i don't even think i have the attention span to write like this anymore.


End file.
